


Something Poetic, Probably (OC One-Shots)

by beyondAgitated



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual character(s), Dylan and Kit are the main focal point at first but they have friends, Evan stabs a bitch once, F/F, Foxtrot - Freeform, Gen, I'll try not to spoil but warning homo/transphobia, Intersex Character(s), Kit and Noah are brothers, M/M, Multi, Other, Tags to be updated ig, There's witches/warlocks at some point, character tags to be updated, covenant, non-binary character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondAgitated/pseuds/beyondAgitated
Summary: This is literally just a collection of one-shots for my OCs. That's all there is to it :)CW/TWs for each chapter will be in the beginning notes.
Relationships: Casey McTouler/Anna Daniels, Dylan Barker/Kit King, Noah King/Evan Stolowitski/Eugene Dellacroix





	1. Party Gone Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> TW// Mild mention of blood and broken skin

Dylan wasn’t much one for parties, but Casey had dragged him to one anyways. After all, Casey had argued, it wasn’t everyday that you got a day off to celebrate your 21st birthday and the big move out of your old man’s hellhole. Dylan had finally relented after she’d mentioned that, and he now stood staring up at a three story house at the top of the hill, listening to some upbeat music that was only mildly muffled.

He swallowed. “Are you sure I can’t-”

She cut him off and looped their arms together. “Nope! No backing out. You don’t even have to drink, okay? If you want to be the DD that’s fine.”

“Case, you know I can’t drive,” Dylan argued softly, running his hand through his short chestnut brown hair. The curls easily gave way to his fingers due to this constant repetitive action.

His friend didn’t seem to hear him, however (or at least she didn’t respond), and the pair ended up indoors. The music from before was suddenly achingly loud, pounding at Dylan’s brain. He tried to block it out and gave the room a solid look; a couple over by the TV was heavily making out, and he quickly averted his poor asexual eyes. He was already incredibly uncomfortable, and turned to ask Casey if all parties were like this. To his surprise, she was gone. He hadn’t even felt her leave, and now she was nowhere in sight.

He tried to stay calm, and he found the punch bowl. He knew he wasn’t going to make it through the night without something in his system, so he filled a plastic cup of the spiked red juice and took a drink. The vodka mixture stung the back of his throat, and he coughed for a moment. He’d never had alcohol before, and now he understood why; it hurt going down.

A hand slapped his back and he nearly choked further on the liquid in his mouth in surprise. “Hey, careful with that. That’s the strong shit; try this instead.” A fresh cup was stuffed into his hand, and the vodka cup removed from his other. Dylan looked up to see who’d done this.

At first, he was confused. Dark brown curly hair was tucked into a rustic orange beanie, save for a small bit of bangs that were arranged almost feministically. They framed soft almond shaped eyes, both a deep familiar green in color, and shining with the light of the party. A soft stubble decorated their face. The person wore a black t-shirt with a simple white featureless fox head on the front, and a red plaid flannel on top, the sleeves rolled up past their elbows. They also stood a few inches taller than himself, making him feel really small, despite standing at a good six foot two already.

They were beautiful, Dylan decided. He felt a small pang of curiosity as he remembered their eye color; it was the same color he’d been seeing in his left eye since he could tell colors, and now desperately hoped had changed to his own icy blue.

“Oh, um…. Thanks.” He had no idea who this person was but he trusted them and took a sip of it anyways, a little relieved when it didn’t burn as badly as the other one. “What’s this one?”

“That’s a wine cooler, bro. The weakest one I have. It only has like three percent alcohol content.” Dylan frowned. “What? You really that bad of a lightweight?”

“I….. may or may not have never had alcohol before tonight.” The person chuckled. “Is that bad?”

“Well, depends. How old are you?”

“Twenty one today,” Dylan nervously confessed.

“Oh, happy birthday. But you never drank as a teenager?” At his confirming headshake, they sighed. “Ah, a rule follower. That’s fine. Hopefully by tonight we can get you to open up a bit, yeah?”

He found himself nodding, and before he could stop himself, he stuck his hand out. “I’m Dylan. He/him pronouns.”

The cute stranger grinned a dazzling white smile and took his hand. “Kit, they/them. Come on, let’s go find a party game.” Without letting go, they dragged the suddenly less uncomfortable Dylan to a table with beer pong going. He was definitely not one for beer, but Kit looked excited about it and asked to join the next round. While they waited, the pair sat down on the small sofa next to the game.

“So,” Kit broke the silence between them. “What do you think of the party so far?”

Dylan considered lying, but he knew how bad he was at it, and he sighed. “Honestly? I don’t like parties. I’ve discovered I don’t really like alcohol very much, my best friend and roommate abandoned me after promising she wouldn’t, and all the heavy making out is making me uncomfortable. Like, who does that kind of stuff in front of so many people?!” He was rambling, he knew he was, but that’s just what he did when he was anxious: he rambled. “The music also isn’t that great, way too hard for my tastes. I like the softer stuff, like Katy Perry. Not whatever the heck this is.”

“Bring Me The Horizon,” Kit supplied with an interested grin.

“Exactly. That. But basically, you’re the only good thing to have come out of this night so far. I’d love nothing more than to be curled up at home with Felix and watching  _ The 100 _ instead of being at this lame party that I never wanted to come to anyways.” He took a deep breath.

“Who’s Felix?” Kit asked, seemingly nervous.

“Felix is my….dog,” he told them, only slightly lying. Felix  _ was  _ part dog, but he was also part wolf. His name was suddenly shrieked and he looked up to see Casey racing at him with a plastic cup, its contents sloshing around. Dylan tried to get her to stop, but she toppled right into his lap, spilling her cup all over him. He cringed, and she tilted her head over to Dylan’s new friend.

“Oh, hey, Kit. Dylan, this is Kit, the host of this totally awesome party.” Dylan felt his heart drop and swung his gaze to meet Kit’s, who just started laughing at the panicked look on his face.

“Don’t worry, dude. I’m not mad. It was kinda cute listening to you talk like that, too.”

Dylan tried to relax. “Are you sure? I did kind of just insult your whole party….”

Kit stood and shook their head. “Nope, I’m not upset. I promise. Case, let the boy up so he can get cleaned up.”

She grumbled, but rolled off his lap. As she landed on the floor and looked back up at her roommate, she gasped. “Dylan! Your eyes are the same color!”

His heart kicked up a notch. “What?! They are?!”

Casey looked up at Kit and grinned wider. “Oh, hell yeah!” She ignored Dylan’s quiet protest of her language and stood up clumsily. “Kit, come over here, dude.” She grabbed their sleeve and tugged them right next to Dylan, who tried to move away in mild panic. “Nope, sit, stay.” She spent a considerable amount of time observing the two’s faces, then finally snapped her fingers. “I may be drunk, but I do believe you two are meant for each other.”

Dylan tried not to have a full blown panic attack. This was  _ not _ how he wanted to meet his soulmate, after ranting about how horrible the party was to the  _ host _ of the party he never wanted to come to in the first place. Kit looked a little uncomfortable as well, if it meant anything.

“Look, Case. I think you’re a little too drunk,” they covered. “How many have you had? Also, it’s dark as fuck in here. You can’t even tell.” Dylan didn’t have him in it at the moment to protest the swearing.

They shrugged off the uncomfortableness and bent to pick up a broken beer bottle on the ground before Casey could hurt herself on it. They must have grabbed it wrong, however, because another f-bomb dropped, as did the bottle, and they gripped their hand tightly. “Dylan, come with me so I can help you get cleaned up, yeah?”

Dylan nervously followed them to the bathroom, but it was obscured by concern for Kit. He could sense that the wound was bleeding pretty badly, and it was proven as such when the bathroom light was switched on, and the bright white revealed half a palm of red. Dylan’s instincts kicked in and he reached over and took Kit’s bleeding hand before they could protest. Ignoring the protest he received anyways, he closed his eyes and covered the wound with his other hand, concentrating.

A soft green energy flowed from his palm to Kit’s, working fast to stop the bleeding and seal the wound enough it wouldn’t open back up again too fast. He dropped their hand and leaned against the wall, woozy after using his ability. Kit looked at him in awe and surprise, then rinsed the remaining blood off their hand.

“How’d you do that?” they asked softly. Dylan gave them a nervous smile.

“It’s just something that runs in the family. Sorry, instinct kicked in, I guess.”

“Don’t be sorry,” they told him. “It was very thoughtful. Thank you.” He could hear the sincerity in their voice and relaxed. “Now, let me help you clean that beer up.” They got a washcloth and wet it down, attempting to clean up the mess on Dylan’s light blue t-shirt. When that failed and it only ended up wetter, they told him they’d be back in a moment and left him alone.

Dylan waited nervously, but Kit returned pretty soon with a dark green t-shirt with a puppy on it and offered it to him. “Are you sure I can wear this?” he asked.

“Yeah, I never wear it anyways. Don’t bother returning it, though. Casey would throw a hissy fit.” They turned around to give him some privacy, and he quickly switched shirts.

“So, uh. How did you two meet?”

“Starbucks like three months ago,” they replied. “You?”

“Middle school. We’ve been best friends since she beat up a homophobic jerk in eighth grade for me.” Dylan had no reason to be this honest with someone who was previously a stranger, but he couldn’t stop the onslaught of words. “Carlos wasn’t very nice.”

For the next hour, Dylan and Kit chatted in the bathroom about their lives, finding some comfort in each other’s company. By the time the party was dwindling down, Kit was sober enough to offer Dylan and Casey a ride home, which was taken. They dropped the pair off and left, and Dylan allowed himself to be a little upset that they’d hardly left a good-bye. But for now, he’d just focus on getting his drunk roommate upstairs to her room and to bed himself. There was always tomorrow, after all.


	2. A Small Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah gets into some trouble, and Eugene and Evan have to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Heavy violence, a lot of blood, and some mild gore. Also fire, should probably add that

Noah sent his boyfriends home ahead of him at the end of the ceremony, wanting to clean up and then pick up a surprise for them for dinner. He told the two he’d be home by seven, and the two left him quick smooches before heading home. He began the job of cleaning up the leftover herbs, humming a tune to himself and thinking about the fish he was going to buy. Eugene loved fish, and they hadn’t had a chance to pick any up in over two months, so Noah knew he’d be excited about it.

All of this was interrupted, however, by a familiar, but unwelcome voice behind him. “Hey, King.”

Resisting a roll of his eyes, Noah turned at the mention of his last name to face the intruder. “Carlos.”

“Where’s your little whore of a leader and his bodyguard?” the man said with a sneer, picking at his fingernail. “Probably off fucking without you, I reckon.”

Noah didn’t have the patience for Carlos’ antics today, and he set down the basket he had just picked up and gave the man a dangerous glare, his purple eyes glittering with anger. “Don’t talk about them like that.”

Knowing that he’d struck a nerve, the other man leaned against the rock in the center of the clearing. “What? Jealous that that Frenchie is getting some and you’re not?”

That was a direct attack on Eugene, and Noah felt his heart pound with barely contained rage that would take over if one more ill thing was said about either of his amazing boyfriends. “I’m giving you one warning. Shut up and leave.”

“What are you gonna do?” Carlos asked, finally dropping his hand. “Kiss me until you manipulate me into falling in love with you, just like you did with those two? I swear, it’s just a thing between you fa-”

Noah’s fist met the asshole’s face, and he spun, shocked by the punch, and stumbled a few steps before righting himself and turning back around, blood gushing from his nose. Noah shook out his hand, smirking with grim satisfaction to see that he’d broken something, and it wasn’t his hand. “I fucking told you to shut up.”

He saw the movement and tried to dodge, but Carlos predicted the movement he’d make, and managed to grab his arm, twisting it painfully. It was made worse when he kicked Noah’s left knee, and he dropped with a shout. Now, the blonde didn’t know much about anatomy (that was Eugene’s thing), but that felt like a break. Fire raced through his leg, agonizing and pulsing; his mind blurred and he struggled to get away from his attacker. Lashing out with his free hand, he managed to smack his palm against Carlos’ ear, temporarily stunning him, and he let go.

With a cry of pain as his leg dragged against the stones and twigs on the ground, Noah tugged himself away, trying to activate his magic. However, due to his pain and rising panic, all he got was a single, tiny flare that didn’t even register in his hazed mind. Somewhere deep in his head came the thought that it was probably a good idea he didn’t cause an earthquake in the middle of the most powerful ceremony circle in the region, on top of his pain, but the thought itself barely registered as Carlos swung a fist at him, connecting with his left eye.

This pain was a little duller, but still strong, and it pulsed in time with his frantically beating heart. He was fully struggling to breathe at this point, and he reached up to try to reach the ceremony knife he knew was still on the rock. Carlos got to it first, however, and loomed over him, kicking him down and pressing him against the dirt with a heavy boot. The knife came down.

* * *

  
  


Noah was late. He was never late; a stickler on time, even. That’s why, when he was over an hour late with no call of explanation, Evan and Eugene began to worry. They tried calling him multiple times, but no answer. Eugene was calmer on the outside, but inside his heart was a pooling mess of anxiety, pulsing at twice the speed it should. He hugged Evan, resting his chin on the shorter man’s head; his light brown hair was frizzing in panic, and tickled the taller’s chin and nose, but he ignored it and talked his boyfriend through his breathing exercises.

Going through the exercise himself calmed him down, and the pair wordlessly grabbed their jackets, shoes, and familiars, and left the cottage they called their own. Ludovik, Eugene’s wolf familiar, shook out his black fur and stuck his nose to the ground to search for his third human; he didn’t need the command, it was an instinct sent through the bond he shared with his warlock.

He tracked Noah’s scent through the woods surrounding the cottage, nearly a mile away. Evan shivered and took Eugene’s hand, closing his slowly darkening eyes and taking a deep breath to stifle the power he felt rising in his chest. Cotton, his viper familiar, curled around his other arm a little tighter, lending him her strength. It helped, and the red flecks appearing in the German man’s brown eyes faded away.

Ludovik suddenly stopped about a dozen yards from their coven’s clearing, the fur on his back rising in hostility. Eugene put his hand on his shoulders, and the wolf took that as a sign to slowly move forward. They were right outside the clearing when they smelled the heavy coppery tang of blood, and the voice of a man the trio had never enjoyed the company of: Carlos.

“How are you still alive?” he was saying, and the pair entered the clearing. Carlos spun to see who was there, a bloody ceremony knife in hand. He was standing over a painfully familiar form in the center of the clearing. “You two!” Carlos sneered, raising the blade and pointing it in their direction. Ludovik let out a threatening growl, his hackles still raised.

Eugene mentally told him not to attack, and took a small step forward. “What have you done to Noah?” he asked, keeping his voice level.

Carlos let out a short, wet bark of a laugh, wiping at the blood on his face with his free hand. “I’ve nearly killed him is what I’ve done. But he’s holding on remarkably well for being such a useless lump of garbage.”

Evan let out a sound of pain, dropping Eugene’s hand. “Go save him.” The command was heavily laced with rage, pain and fear, and Eugene started making his way to his probably unconscious boyfriend, his familiar at his side. Ludovik barked and lunged at Carlos as the pair neared, and the man yelped and dropped the knife, stepping away. Eugene got a good look at the damage that had been done, swearing softly in French.

He rubbed his hands together quickly, creating a green static of magic. Placing one hand at the shallow but pulsing cut at his throat, and the other on the wound in his abdomen, he closed his eyes and concentrated on healing those two wounds first. He only healed them enough so they weren’t any immediate danger, which was basically just enough to close the wounds and make them stop bleeding.

Noah’s left knee was definitely shattered, and he quickly pushed it back into position as best as he could, then put one hand on either side and focused on healing it. He tried to push off his own exhaustion at overusing his powers like this, far too worried about his boyfriend. The leg wasn’t perfect, but Noah stirred, and the wound in his throat opened again, and Eugene shifted his focus to there and pushed himself past his limit. As soon as he was sure he wasn’t going to die due to those three wounds, he passed out beside him, his stamina spent on healing.

Across the clearing, Evan’s eyes were a glowing blood red; it had happened the instant Eugene and Ludovik had dashed across the clearing, and Cotton had moved to a nearby tree. An invisible wind that wasn’t there before blew at his jacket and hair as he slowly walked towards the man that had beaten his boyfriend within an inch of his life. He subconsciously knew he needed to back down, feeling the deadly power he’d inherited from his mother seeping into his heart with its red rage.

However, the way Evan saw it, Carlos deserved death.

The short man floated gently, something he’d never done before, thanks to the ugly power radiating from him. Carlos looked up at him in fear, finally realizing the weight his mistake held as Evan began to chant quickly in latin. No one could keep up with the speed it was said, but it was revealed to be a flame spell as a circle of pure red flames spun its web around Carlos, trapping him. The wind grew stronger, flipping the flames higher and into a cone. It began to shrink down upon the abusive man, and Evan felt fierce satisfaction as he heard him scream from inside the cone in pain as flames darted at him.

“Ev, stop!” The strained voice pulled the coven leader’s attention from his prey to the center of the clearing. Noah was standing shakily, leaning very heavily on the rock. His left eye, or what was left of it, was oozing milky blood that dripped down his face. “Don’t give in to the voices! Come back to us!”

Evan slowly floated back down to the earth, but the wind remained, and his eyes still glowed. Noah stepped away from the rock and closer to him, reaching out for him. Evan met him in the middle, catching him before he could fall, and helping him back down. “Let me do this,” he quietly pleaded, his voice made deep by the demonic power coursing through his system. “Let me make him pay.”

A tear rolled down Noah’s cheek, and was quickly wiped away by the younger man’s thumb. “Don’t do it, Ev,” Noah tried again, his voice cracking. “Put him on trial, exile him to the farlands, sentence him to death by witch hunters, I don’t care. But don’t give in to those voices. You might not come back.”

Evan’s mind latched onto how broken he sounded, and the flames behind him began to die down. He sat down next to Noah, choking on the rage that threatened to build up again as he caught sight of Carlos. He couldn’t kick it down anymore, and gave a gentle sob. “Help me,” he begged his injured boyfriend.

The blonde took Evan’s hand and looked into his eyes, trying to give him a smile, even if it was weak with pain. “You can do it. I know you can. You’re the strongest man I know.”

That definitely helped, and the evil red rage that was encroaching on his heart began to retreat as he leaned into his arms and embraced him tightly. He screwed his eyes shut and went through his breathing exercise, and when he opened them again, they were the same brilliant dark chocolate brown that Noah had fallen in love with.

The red fire and the mysterious wind was gone, but Carlos was still on the ground, whimpering at his burns. Noah slumped further, not sure if he was able to stay upright anymore, and Evan adjusted their positions so he could hold him better. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before other members of their coven began to show up to find out what had happened in the middle of the night. 

The next few hours passed in a blur of suspense; Evan demanded they imprison Carlos the second others showed up, and Eugene awoke soon after. He was given tea to make him go back to sleep so he could rest up and regain his stamina, and Noah was taken to the medical cottage, where the doctors there did what they could to heal him. Evan was also given a sleeping drought, and the night passed like that.

In the morning, Noah and Evan gave their statements to the rest of The Council, and it was unanimously decided that Carlos would be stripped of his magic and all heirlooms and sent into the mortal realm. Eugene came bearing disappointing news soon after the sentence, as he had been talking with the doctors as his boyfriends gave their statements.

Noah was very lucky to be alive. The knife wound in his abdomen had narrowly avoided his stomach, and the cut made to his throat was less than a centimeter away from nicking his artery. His leg would heal, but he would never walk the same, and his left eye had to be completely removed. All of it was going to scar, but he would live.

Evan and Eugene both tried to convince him that the scars would make him look cool, and the children within the coven would enjoy fantasy tales of how he’d gotten said scars, but Noah firmly disagreed and told them he was going to cover them up. His boyfriends were a little disappointed, but understood, and let him get fitted for an eyepatch.

And if the two of them made him a bandana by their own hands for the scar on his throat? So what? That’s what you do when you love someone.


End file.
